


Maybe Eight: The Epilogue

by floosilver8



Series: Maybe Eight [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Epilogue, F/M, PWP, Parentlock end game, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sherlolly - Freeform, Smut, mollock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1982847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floosilver8/pseuds/floosilver8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The climax...or six or seven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe Eight: The Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> This got a bit away from me as you can see by the word count. I too wanted to see what happens next after their big fight so I gave it a go. It was just supposed to be playful porn but it turned a bit fluffy. Please enjoy.

Molly stood on the stoop of 221B, her body tingling with excitement and trepidation. It had been three hours since Sherlock had kissed her heartily and left to wrap up the case. Looking back, it all seemed surreal. The argument, the snogging, Sherlock's declarations of his intent. God, could it really be true?

Her hand hovered over his doorbell. _This is it, Molly. This is the start of your life with the man you've loved for six years_. _...Or it could be a trick. Or one of his passing whims. But_ oh _the kissing had been... **hot**._

Molly held her breath while all these thoughts raced through her brain. It was almost 5am, ungodly early for a visitor. But he had said...but he hadn't texted or called to let her know what happened with the case. _Oh God, this was a mistake._

Just as she had made her mind up to turn and flee, the door flew open and Sherlock's large hand pulled her to the darkness inside. He pressed her back against the foyer wall with his hands on her biceps and hips leaning into her stomach.

"Sherlock," she managed to whisper through uneven breaths and dropping her bag to the floor.

"Molly," he answered throatily, leaning his face down to hover at her temple. "What took you so long?" his soft lips pressed against her ear gently.

Apparently he was in fact amenable to resuming where they had left off. She smiled and tilted her head to give him better access. "I came right away," she replied evenly.

"Not yet you haven't," he teased, caressing her arms and pressing his stomach further into her body. She almost giggled at his childish joke, but his touch, _God_ , his touch. "Would you like to? Right here? With Mrs. Hudson sleeping behind that door?"

Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest and she realised she was almost panting. She finally moved her arms, to grip onto his waist that was nearly painfully holding her in place.

"Hmm?" he hummed expecting her answer.

"Do you-" she started, but became distracted when his mouth began suckling at her neck. She closed her eyes and had to swallow away the hard lump that had formed in her throat. She wanted to be strong, wanted to challenge him and get the upper-hand. "Do you think you can make me?" she asked, keeping her voice as even as possible.

Sherlock hummed again, into the notch between her neck and shoulder. "I'm looking forward to it," he whispered and let go of her left arm in order to caress her breast through her blouse.

Molly choked back a gasp at his now brazen attentions that were setting her whole body on fire. His free hand trailed from her thoroughly aroused breast, down over her stomach, and changed angles to rub between her legs. His nimble fingers worked at her cunt through the fabric of her trousers and pants. She moaned softly and ground against his hand. The trousers were fairly lightweight and she probably would have climaxed just with this diffused contact, but after a few seconds Sherlock quickly had her fly undone. He didn't bother to push her trousers down at all, opting to simply stick his hand down her knickers and resume massaging her folds.

"Oh, fuck," she whispered into his shoulder. "Don't stop!" Molly felt impossibly wet, and if she was honest, had never been more turned on in her life. This was even better than the surprise groping in the lab only hours ago. Her cells buzzed and she lost the capacity for coherent thought as he concentrated on her clit. _Holy fuck._ Sherlock Holmes was rubbing her off in his foyer. _Jesus sodding-_

"Molly," he whispered tenderly into her ear. And that was it. That was all she needed to go tripping over the edge. She held her breath as every nerve burst with pleasure. Her fingers clawed at his body, trying to hold on for dear life. It seemed to go on forever, and she needed to reorient herself when the wave had finally passed.

"Oh, God," she breathed eventually.

"Thank you but, no," he laughed lightly, his voice devastatingly low.

Before Molly could chastise him, the light in Mrs. Hudson's flat turned on. "Shit!" she gasped and automatically moved to cover herself.

Sherlock didn't let her move very far, but recognised the need for action. "Go! Go!" he whispered and pushed her toward the stairs. Molly almost stumbled but recovered and they both clambered up the two flights as fast as they could.

Trying not to burst into giggles, he pushed her into his flat and shut the kitchen door behind him, all without letting go of her. Spinning her around, he trapped her again under his body, holding her in place against the closed door with his hands on her cheeks and his thigh partially between her legs. The solid bulge in his trousers was unmistakable against the crook of her hip.

They stood there catching their breath, grinning and eyes twinkling in the low light of the kitchen. Molly was the first to move. Biting her bottom lip, she rose up on her toes and slowly sank back down, arching her back and effectively rubbing against his crotch. She held his slightly astonished gaze until he couldn’t take it anymore and closed his eyes with a low sigh.

“What about you?” she asked, now gripping his hips and pulling him closer. “How _hard_ can it be to make you come?” She tilted her hips up for emphasis and Sherlock groaned and swore.

“What was that, Mr. Holmes?” she teased, unbuttoning his trousers and sliding down the zip while still pressing her hips into his stiff cock as much as possible. Without removing his trousers she pushed the waistband of his pants down to free his throbbing erection. And with as much restraint as she could muster, she wrapped her petite hand around his thick shaft.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted and buried his face in his bicep.

Molly let out a breathy laugh, “No, no. You know perfectly well who I am.” And Sherlock groaned again as she began to stroke him excruciatingly slowly. Her free hand gripped his arse and kept him pulled in close. His breaths remained strained and ragged, and she could feel him struggling to maintain control.

She grinned to herself, spurred on by seeing him falling apart by not all that much contact. Slowly, she pushed off from the wall and coaxed him to turn and switch places with her. As he leant back, his hands left her upper arms and travelled into her hair. He pulled her face forward and pressed his lips firmly against hers, moaning softly into her mouth.

Molly broke away after a second, biting his lower lip playfully and continuing her measured strokes. Keeping a steady hand on him, she slowly sank to her knees between his legs.

“You can’t!” Sherlock growled, digging his fingers into her scalp where he still clung to her.

“Can’t I?” she teased, and licked a long stripe from the base of his cock to its pulsing tip. Before she could wrap her lips around the head he pulled away, and before she could protest he sank to his knees as well.

He kissed her hard, holding her more gently. “No, I mean you can’t do that right now. It’s umm...”

Molly understood and grinned, pleased that she could have such an effect on him. They resumed their passionate kissing, hands roaming over each other greedily. Sherlock was the first to toy with taking off her blouse, but Molly beat him to it, flinging it over her head and getting to work on his own shirt. Giggling softly, they each hurriedly removed their outer clothing layers, jumping up to wiggle out of their trousers.

Now in just their pants (and bra for Molly) they took long, meaningful looks over the sight before them. Smiling wickedly, Sherlock inched forward, holding Molly delicately at her hips and guiding her to walk backwards.

Eventually her bum hit the table and Sherlock kissed her again before reaching behind and unfastening her bra. Molly let him slip it off her shoulders and watched it tumble to the floor near their other hastily discarded clothing. She had to hold on to the edge of the table for dear life as he suckled kisses into the side of her neck, and splayed one hand over her opposite shoulder. Inch by inch, his hand ghosted over her bare breast, nipple already straining against his palm for more contact.

"Ung," she gasped, when he finally gave her what she desired by rubbing his thumb against the small bud. Leaning forward she lightly bit his shoulder, and tilted her hips up into the impressive erection he was still pressing against her. Receiving a low moan of appreciation and feeling emboldened once again, she released the table to push down his pants and fully release his straining cock.

Sherlock let her work for a second before assisting in the process. He stood before her, now completely nude, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. In a flash he sunk to his knees again, palming her hips and toying with the elastic of her knickers. He nuzzled his face into her stomach, smelling her heady scent signalling how ready she was for him. He desperately wanted to taste her.

Kissing her stomach and licking a trail downward he slid off her soaked knickers with ease. He kissed her hipbone as he ran his hands back up her legs, easing them apart.

But Molly wouldn't budge, and her hands wrapped around his neck and pulled him back to standing. "You can't do that," she said breathing heavily and her eyes shut tight. "Sherlock...I need..." she stammered opening her legs to hook one calf around his knee. They both gasped when she rubbed herself against his hard shaft.

Sherlock swore and pressed himself further against her, clutching onto her hips probably leaving marks. "Bed," he croaked half in question, resting his head on her shoulder and kissing her clavicle.

"No," she panted, still rocking tantalizingly against him, "right here. Now. Please."

In a smooth motion Sherlock leant to one side and extracted a foil packet from the underside of the table. In a flash he had the condom rolled on his leaking cock and poised at her hot entrance. He slowed then, to try to control himself, but failed miserably at thinking about anything other than sinking into her. And God, she felt amazing. Her walls were tight and slick with her arousal. Everything about it was driving him mad. He groaned louder than he meant to when he was finally fully seated in her.

Molly almost came again right there. The victory of getting something she's wanted for so long was overwhelming. It was even better than the fantasy. Wrapping her leg fully around his waist, he supported her back as he gently thrust in and out of her.

He leant down and pressed his forehead to hers, not able to look at her for fear of it undoing him completely. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her fingers tug into his skin. She breathed heavily with each stroke, urging him on with a tilt of her hips.

With the initial shock gone, the need for more, faster, harder built very quickly. They rocked together, the table scraping slightly over the linoleum floor, their speed increasing rapidly. Molly panted and mewled, Sherlock gasped and moaned, and almost at the exact same time, they cried out their orgasms, clenching and grasping, and trying to stay upright.

Molly caught her breath and relaxed her grip on him first. Sherlock lifted his head up and kissed her soundly while slowly slipping out of her. He breathed heavily and kissed her again before letting her go long enough to toss the johnny in the bin.

"Well," he said, resuming his place pressed against her and kissing her lightly for good measure, "what next?"

She grinned and rested her hands lightly on his bare hips. "Well, after a long shift I usually take a shower and go to sleep. But I don't think that's what you have in mind."

"Ahh, I think we can make some concessions." Taking her hands, he led her off the table and into the bathroom.

\--

The shower was not as productive as Molly usually liked to be. But then again, she was usually alone, and sometimes in a rush. Only once did she and Tom attempt shower sex, and it did not go well. Sherlock on the other hand, made Molly a true believer.

His tub had high walls and the soap dish was at just the right height to support her foot as he finally went down on her. The warm water cascaded over them both, Sherlock on his knees with his face buried in her pussy, Molly pressed against the tile with her legs spread wantonly. She dug her fingers into his scalp and couldn't keep her hips still as he licked and suckled her lust-swollen sex. Never in her life had she been brought to orgasm so many times in such a short span. It rippled through her in a way that was strange but satisfying, and she dragged him up by his face as soon as she could to taste herself on his tongue. _God, his tongue_. She knew he was capable of reducing people to bumbling messes with his words, but his tongue! So much more satisfying.

They embraced under the shower spray, collecting themselves and revelling in the feel of their warm skin pressed tightly together, before separating so they could actually wash. Sherlock lathered up his hands and rubbed them over every inch of her body, concentrating on her breasts.

"I think they're clean," she said eventually with a cheeky smile.

"Mmmm," he hummed in concentration, not stilling, "I keep missing a spot. You are _so_ dirty, my Molly."

" _Your_ Molly?" she grinned.

"Yes, quite. _Mine_ ," he whispered into her ear, holding her possessively, his dick half hard and brushing her hip.

Molly had to hold back a moan but couldn't keep the gasp from escaping her throat. This man was apparently hell-bent on reducing her to a pile of mush. And she couldn't stand for that.

With a gentle push to his stomach, she directed him to lean against the wall. Satisfied that he was letting her have control, she trailed a hand down his firm abs and brushed it gently over his cock. It twitched instantly against her palm and Sherlock's mouth fell open.

Molly stepped back slightly and bent in half to kiss the space just under his navel. She let her hand continue teasing his package, shifting to massage his balls gently, eliciting a long groan from him and his shaft twitched and thickened. She nuzzled her nose into his skin, licking and biting playfully.

Her hand on his cock became more firm as he hardened gradually. He sucked in his breath the instant she swirled her tongue around the tip. She had never been the biggest fan of giving oral sex, but with Sherlock she wanted to give him everything. Her abs worked as she bobbed up and down, licking and sucking at the most sensitive spots of his penis. She held her back straight and he tenderly rubbed large circles up and down her spine. She finally dropped to her knees to get better leverage and take him in as far as she could, stroking what little she couldn't.

Sherlock groaned and gasped, held on to her neck gently, and tried not to buck up into her mouth. But she was driving him to the brink and despite their recent performance in the kitchen he was so, so close. Molly took him in again, and again, as far as she could. As she pulled away each time she'd rub her thumb over the underside of the tip and it sent a shock all through his body. In his heady days of drug addiction, Sherlock only indulged in this act once or twice. He had vague recollections of what it had felt like, and it was nothing as sweet and powerful as this.

Molly bobbed and bobbed, stroked and stroked, and the tension built deeply within him. His breathing was uneven and short and he was so close before he could think about it. Suddenly right on the edge he desperately tapped her on the shoulder in warning, stuck half-way between wanting this to go on forever and wanting to drag her up and fuck her against the wall.

Molly knew exactly what his taps were signalling, and chose to not heed the warning. He tensed and grunted loudly above her once and for all, and she took his hot, salty release down her throat. She grinned and licked her lips before he grabbed her shoulders and hoisted her up into a frantic and tender hug.

They clung onto each other for a moment, enjoying the still-warm shower, until Sherlock's shoulders relaxed and Molly could turn to rinse off. She gathered a mouthful of water and turned back suddenly to spit it playfully in his face.

Her aim was off, getting more chest and neck, but the shocked look he gave in return was a thing of beauty. She burst into giggles as he grabbed her and bundled her into his arms again.

Thoroughly waterlogged, they eventually turned off the shower and wrapped themselves in Sherlock's fluffy bath towels. They didn't say much of anything as they 'helped' each other towel off. He squeezed the water out of her hair, and let her set the hairdryer on his. Mostly they glanced and grinned and mooned at each other until Molly yawned.

It was past 6am after all, and they had both been awake for much too long.

Sherlock whisked her towel off and ushered her nude body into his bedroom. "Bedtime," he said softly, letting his own towel drop to the floor.

"You are insatiable," she giggled, squirmed and yawned again. "Just a short nap, I promise."

He agreed to let her rest, but tucked himself against her, not wanting to be parted. She relaxed into him, grinning and probably not really going to get to sleep.

"So," she said playfully, "does the foyer count as one, or is it only intercourse? I didn’t read the article. Do we both have to come?"

"Uhhhh," he stalled "I think we can make up our own rules, don’t you?”

“I know _you_ always do,” she teased. She shifted and buried her face in his chest, feeling much more secure and relaxed than she ever dreamed of being around a naked Sherlock Holmes. Maybe she would get some rest after all.

As she started to fully settle down, her conscience began running wild. Memories of what they had said to each other in the lab only a few hours ago flew through her mind. 

"I did...visit you," she said eventually. He moved his head slightly to look at her better. "In the hospital, after you got shot." She swallowed hard at the painful memory and he kissed her shoulder softly. "It was before you woke up. But then when you did wake up and I heard you bolted...well, I decided to stop chasing you because you apparently didn't need me."

Sherlock squeezed her, drawing her closer to him and cleared his throat. "I am sorry, Molly...for everything. With you I never _meant_ to be hurtful...it just-"

"Shhh," she cut him off with a gentle pat on the arm around her waist. "I know.” And Molly drifted off with a smile on her face and Sherlock wrapped around her.

\----

For two hours, Molly slept like a log. Her internal clock woke her at exactly 8am, needing a cup of tea and some toast if it could be arranged. It took her a second to register where she was, and another to realise she was naked, and was slightly quicker at remembering what had happened. Sherlock apparently had not slept, or at least not as long, and he wasn’t in the bed with her now - although his side still felt warm.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs caught her attention. Assuming it was him she wrapped herself up in the sheet as sexily as she could and exited the room. It was startling to find him fully nude and filling the kettle at the sink, it was more startling to register that it was John who had so recently made his way up the stairs.

John’s eyes bounced from his friend’s bare arse, the clothes still scattered around the floor, and Molly wide-eyed clutching her sheet. Frozen with shock for only a moment, while he put it all together, John suddenly grinned and punched the air with a, “Yeah!”

Sherlock had to stop himself from laughing, and quickly turned his smirk into a scowl to shoot at John. Molly tried to keep her smile from getting too wide and settled for bowing slightly and fleeing back to Sherlock’s bed.

As she exited she distinctly heard John say, “Nice one, mate.” and then in his ‘phone’ voice, “Mary! You need to sit down I have something to tell you...” faded away as he walked back down the stairs.

A few seconds later, Sherlock padded in from the kitchen, carrying two mugs of tea. “Morning,” he grinned at her.

“It was morning when I arrived!”

“Yes, well. I’m doing the ‘morning after’ right now. Getting it out of the way. We have a lot of time to make up for, after all,” he said setting the mugs down on his bedside table.

“Oh, really?”

“Mmm...we need to tick some boxes as it were.”

“Indeed,” Molly giggled as Sherlock dove onto the bed to attack her again.

As their tea went cold and forgotten, Sherlock and Molly reignited their earlier game. Sherlock pinned her against the bed as he retrieved a condom from the table’s drawer and shagged her into the mattress.

After new tea and the only bit of bread he had was made into toast, Molly tackled him before he made it back to the bed, rolled the condom on for him, and rode him where he lay on the floor.

“How many was that?” he asked, breathing heavy against the back of his hand after they’d both come hard.

“I’ve lost count,” she said, rolling off him and trying to catch her breath.

He chuckled and kissed the smooth, warm skin of her shoulder. She lazily rubbed her arm against him, too shagged out to be very coordinated.

“I’m going to need something to eat if we keep this up,” he joked. And then he lifted his head in the direction of the stairs and shouted, “MRS. HUDSON?! BANANAS!” before flopping back down. They both burst into giggles and Molly hoped the landlady would not materialise with fruit any time soon.

A bit later, Molly insisted on having another shower, where Sherlock finally got to live out his earlier fantasy of fucking her hard against the tile wall while the warm water cascaded over them both. He discarded the condom without stepping out of the tub, and insisted on shampooing Molly’s hair for fun.

Of course, after they were finally clean again, Sherlock chased Molly around the flat while whipping his towel at her bum. They giggled and yipped, and Mrs. Hudson banged on her ceiling to get them to quiet down.

Which they did, once Sherlock had finally caught her and wrestled her towel away, pressing her face-down into floor. He magiced a condom from somewhere, and took her on the rug in front of the fire place. It was slow, and they intertwined their hands as she supported herself on her elbows.

Molly lost coherent thought fairly quickly, sure that there were no bones left in her body to keep her whole and together.

“No, no. We have to stop,” she panted after he had rolled off of her. “I can’t...I can’t orgasm anymore.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he swore in agreement.

“I know Janine was lying, but I think we’ve just confirmed ‘seven times a night’ is biologically impossible.” They both giggled and snuggled closer together.

Molly insisted on getting dressed to greet the take-away delivery guy a while later. It was an odd time to eat – too late for lunch and too early for dinner, but their previous activities had thrown everything off and they were starving.

They ate on the sofa out of the cartons and Molly stretched her legs across Sherlock’s lap. When they’d had their fill, Sherlock jumped up to clean everything away. He was gone for a while and Molly became a bit suspicious.

“Everything okay?” she asked tentatively after a moment of silence. He didn’t answer and the sound of his movements grew fainter as he obviously drifted into the bedroom. “Sherlock?” she called again, receiving no immediate response.

So she got up to investigate, and found him tossing odd bits of clothes out of his wardrobe and into a bin bag. Funny jackets and hats, and several waistcoats she had never seen him wear. “What are you doing?” she tried again, and this time she was rewarded when he popped his head around the wardrobe door.

“Making room for your stuff,” he replied simply before diving back in. “Will Toby mind the move?” he asked casually.

“Ummmm, I’m not sure,” she stammered and picked at the sleeve of the dressing gown he let her borrow.

“Mm. That’s ok. We can call one of those cat therapists like on telly if he acts up,” he provided matter-of-factly.

Molly could only smile and had to sit on the bed to keep from falling over in a faint. He was really serious. Well, she knew that he was when he had said it, but to see him taking the next steps. It was baffling, and extremely touching.

“What?” he asked, popping up again and seeing her looking shocked and sitting down. “All right?”

“Yeah, um, yes,” she managed eventually with a little shake of her head. “This is really nice of you,” she pointed to the progress he was making on filling the bin bag.

“It’s not ‘nice,’ you’re moving in and you need space. This is going to be our home together.” He stopped suddenly and looked at her slightly stricken. “Unless...you don’t want to live here,” he said slowly. “I just sort of-”

“Of course!” Molly stopped him, “Of course I do. I just didn’t expect it to all happen so quickly.”

He walked over and sat with her on the bed, taking her hand in his and kissing it sweetly. “I meant it, Molly. We have a lot of time to make up for. We know each other much too well. There’s no need to play at slowing down a relationship that was destined to happen from the beginning. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I _believe_...you could put up with me for all that time,” he grinned cheekily, “as long as I’m good to you.”

She laughed breathily and repeated, “As long as you’re good to me.”

“Great,” he began in segue, “Now that we’ve refuelled, I think I have another in me.”

Molly giggled and squirmed and Sherlock dove in to tickle her waist and tackle her across the bed. He paused with his body fully covering her, their legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets. He leaned in slowly and captured her lips firmly with his own.

They kissed slowly, feeling each other out again and enjoying every moment. Without a word, they began rubbing and caressing each other tenderly and unhurried. He peeled her dressing gown off and kissed every inch of skin between her throat and her breasts.

She untied the drawstring of his pyjama bottoms and slid the silky material down his legs. Grasping handfuls of his arse, she rolled her hips, rubbing his hardening cock against her mound.

“Molly,” he groaned out, fisting handfuls of her hair and pressing himself into her skin. “What about...children?” he asked shakily.

“Yes,” she answered breathily, not ceasing her tormenting movements.

“Yes?” he choked and swallowed hard.

“Yes,” she said again, taking his shaft in hand and rubbing the spots she now knew he liked best.

“Ahh...how many?” he said eventually, reaching down to rub her smooth clit, so wet with her arousal.

“Mmmm,” she moaned, “Let’s start with one.”

He kissed her deeply before looking her in the eyes, “Okay,” he said seriously. He shifted and took himself in hand, brushing her nimble fingers away from his cock. He rubbed the head slowly along her outer folds and she mewled and keened beneath him. “Okay?” he asked, intent obvious in his tone.

“Yes!” she gasped, tilting her hips to encourage him to continue, and pressing down onto his cock.

Sherlock actually growled as he slowly entered her, nothing between them but their own juices. They took it slow, gazing longingly at each other and tenderly caressing whatever skin they could find.

The act of having sex - no, making love was the only way to describe this - without protection was surprisingly arousing. It was dangerous, but full of devotion and desire. The thought of making a life together spurred on their passionate movements. They rocked together, building a slow burn that was ready to ignite.

Sherlock leant on his elbow and took her hand, lacing their fingers together above her head. Molly locked her legs more tightly around his waist and nuzzled her face into his cheek.

“I love you,” she whispered, threading her free hand into the thick curls at the base of his skull.

He panted and squeezed her hand, unable to hold on much longer, absolutely enraptured by her. Her body moving under him, her hair draping across the pillow, her multifaceted scents getting mixed up in the air with his own. _Oh, God._ If heaven existed, it was this moment.

“Say it again,” he gasped, reaching between them with his free hand to make sure she was receiving the friction and pressure she needed.

“I...I love you,” she choked out as her climax started to reach the breaking point.

With a few more pumps, she threw her head back and clutched at his hand as she quaked and spasmed through her climax. Sherlock followed closely behind in a few deep thrusts. He buried his face in her neck and groaned out her name, “I – ah – love you! Molly! Gah!” before collapsing in delightful exhaustion.

Molly stroked his back lazily, relishing in everything that had transpired in the past 10 hours. Eventually he slid out of her, kissing her neck and shoulders and not caring a bit for the mess they’d made with the sheets.

“Did...did we get it in time?” he breathed. “Was that at least seven? I...I...I can’t do eight. That’s just right out,” he managed, before they both burst into giggles.


End file.
